I made four trips to the hosiptal this weekend. Two on Friday and two on Saturday. Three of them were planned, one was not.
My mom's surgery was on Friday. I dropped her off in the morning and the Dr. let me know she should be out of surgery by 3:00. I tried calling her room at 5:00 and she wasn't there yet. In fact, she didn't get there until 6:30. It turns out she had a lot of scaring and adhesions that needed to be repaired. Her surgery took twice as long as it was supposed to. She was so out of it, that she doesn't remember all of the really funny things she said on Friday night. She doesn't even remember that I was there.
But here is the amazing thing. She walked out of the hospital 24 hours later without any problem. She hadn't even had any pain killers in hours. She doesn't feel 100% yet, but she feels pretty good. I went over to visit her tonight, and she was doing really well. That robotic surgery really is that muh better than the other options.
Now, on to the other hospital visit.
Yesterday afternoon Michael and I were playing on the sofa. He was bouncing on it like he always does. I know I saw it happen, but I don't remember how he managed to fall off. What I do remember is the sound of his head hitting the edge of the coffee table. It was horrible. In fact, it's making me cringe just typing about it. It's one of those things that I'll never forget...but I sure wish I could.
Michael jumped right up, wailing like you can't even believe. I grabbed him and hugged him all while saying "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD" over and over again. That's when my brain started spinning. Where is Andy? How bad is this? Ask Michael questions. Do we call 911?
I got Michael calmed down a little and started asking him questions. He knew who he was and how to spell his name. That's a good sign. We can drive him to the hospital. I yelled for Andy. Andy didn't respond.
I continued to calm Michael. When he was just sobbing, I went to get an ice pack and to yell for Andy again. I was barely holding myself together. I came back in to give Michael the ice pack and that's when I noticed a little blood near his hair.
I sat down next to him and moved his hair aside to see what kind of scratch he had. I'm not going to explain what I saw because...well, I just can't. I got a wet cloth and covered the cut. Then I ran up to find Andy. He was in the shower, and I'm pretty sure I scared him half to death when I barged in on him yelling what had just happened. Then I headed back down to Michael.
OK, I have a confession. I was so wozzy from seing the cut that I had to stop for about 10 seconds and lay down so as not to pass out. I'm a fainter. I hated stopping like that while Michael was alone, but I didn't want to pass out on the steps.
Michael was a real trooper. I'm so proud of him. He held the cloth to his head while I got him into his car seat and tolerated all of my annoying questions. He sat on my lap for an hour in the waiting room, and even managed to be peepy when another boy came over to talk to him. (What a life saver that boy was. He was a great distraction for Michael.)
Once we made it into the exam room, the hard stuff started to happen. I'm a fainter and unfortunately, so is Andy. I really just wanted to leave the room a few times, but there was no way in hell I was letting go of Michael. So, I got to help the nurse when she applied the topical to Michael's cut. I saw WAY TOO MUCH. Wozzy again. I didn't pass out, but I did break out in a cold sweat.
Once the topical had time to work, they needed to give the local and irrigate the wound. They needed my help with that too. I did it, but once again, I saw WAY TOO MUCH. Wozzy again. Closer to passing out. Another cold sweat.
Finally, it was time for the stitches. Michael was amazing. He laid still for all six stitches. I held his hands throughout, but I did not look. Still got wozzy. Massive cold sweat. I am such a wuss!
Michael, on the other hand, is one tough little kid. Not only was he brave throughtout the whole thing. The only time he cried was when they took his blood pressure (yet stitches where fine). He answered all of the doctor's questions, even though he must have told people his name about 30 times. He was even up to correcting a few people, including the doctor once. The doctor called him "bud" once and Michael sternly informed him that he IS MICHAEL. That's my boy.
We stopped at Dunkin Donuts on the way home and treated Michael to two sprinkle donuts. He ate them both too. Another good sign that he didn't have a concussion. He was also trying to bounce on the sofa again within the hour, but seems OK with the no bouncing rule. I checked on him a number of times last night, but he seems good as new. The worst part now is that I have to keep a bandaid on it for 48 hours, changing it twice a day. The cut is right along his hairline, so the band aid sticks to the soft wispy hairs. Removing the band aid is like waxing his hair line. Poor kid.
So, we've had our first ER visit for stitches. I hope it's the last. I don't ever want to have to go through that again. Although, I did use it as an excuse for extra hugs and kisses. Poor kid...